Falling apart
by sarahmith
Summary: After Sam's confession, there was silence again. "Sleep now. I will take care of this mess." Sam wasn't quite sure what Dean meant by that, but all fight had left him and he was so exhausted that he was asleep in a matter of seconds.
1. Falling apart

**Summary:** After Sam's confession, there was silence again.

"Sleep now. I will take care of this mess."

Sam wasn't quite sure what Dean meant by that, but all fight had left him and he was so exhausted that he was asleep in a matter of seconds.

Just a short little something that came up to me and I had to write down. If you like it or if you want to offer constructive criticism just leave a comment. It will be appreciated.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy it :)

* * *

When Dean returned to their shared motel room Sam was already way beyond the stage of good and thoroughly pissed. He couldn't even remember himself how much he had been drinking but to be honest, he didn't even care at this point. They had been trapped in this fucking town in fucking nowhere for nearly a week now and quite frankly, Sam fucking hated it.

He couldn't even blame it on Dean. The reason they were stuck here was apparently a shortage of jobs. Sam had been tearing through newspapers and has searched the web quite thoroughly – he had even gone as far as looking on page 156 on Google search – but there was nothing to be found.

Dean had embraced the forced break happily and had even refused to just keep driving till they found something. So now Sam was stuck in this horrible motel with his brother, who was going out every night. And every morning he returned with a new set of back scratches and hickeys and the satisfied grin on his face couldn't possibly grow any larger. And Sam hated it.

He had long since come to terms with the fact that he had not-so-brotherly feelings for his older brother. And he had also come to term with the fact that those feelings would never ever be reciprocated. And he could take the occasional one night stand his brother indulged in every other town. But this was pure torture. With every night that passed Sam got more and more irritable, snapping at his brother almost constantly now. But this only made Dean go out even more to avoid his irrational little brother as best as he could, which in turn made Sam even angrier and more heartbroken. It was a vicious circle, you see. Or more like a downwards spiral because Sam felt like he was spinning out of control, with no direction and no safety net. This wasn't going to end well.

And when Dean had left the motel room this evening, Sam had finally snapped and had turned to the patented Winchester solution for problems of any nature, whiskey. His plan had been to drown all his feelings and the hurt. He justed wanted one night without caring. And boy, drown his sorrows he did. He was totally hammered and way beyond caring at this point.

That's how Dean found him when he came home from his latest conquest at 5 in the morning.

"Ah… De'n. Sooo glad you… could join me!" Sam exclaimed loudly as he registered his brother's presence.

"I was jus' goin' to popo… propose a toast."

He nearly fell over as he tried to stand up and only out of pure luck was he able to hold on to the table.

"To my big bro'her, who managed to bang half of the town's female pop'lation in only five days. Sooo glad to be related to you!"

Sam was laughing at his own joke and never saw how Dean's face changed from satisfied and happy to worried and angry in a matter of seconds.

"Sam, what is going on with you? How much have you been fucking drinking?"

"Don' know, don' care."

Sam was done laughing by this point and exhaustion settled in. He toppled back into the chair, his latest bottle of whiskey slipping from his hands and spilling its contents over the motel carpet. All the bad emotions came back at once and he started to cry uncontrollably.

"Sam, come on. Tell me what's going on with you. You have been on edge for the past days and now this?"

Dean was at his brother's side in no time. Carefully he knelt down beside Sam, one hand on his knee the other clutching Sam's shoulder.

"I can help you."

"No, no De. Cannot help me. Am disgusting."

"What du you mean? You are not disgusting Sammy. Why would you say that?"

"Because I love you De."

"I love you too. You are my brother. That's not disgusting. You are not making any sense Sam."

Sam let out a frustrated grunt and rubbed his hands over his face. Somewhere inside his brain, he knew that he needed to shut up now. He should just go to bed, sleep it off and then laugh about it tomorrow. But that was just a small part. The biggest part wanted to shake Dean and scream at him. Wanted to tell him all the dirty things he thought about his big brother. How he wanted to touch his whole body, how he wanted to kiss him everywhere. Most of all he wanted Dean to know that he wanted to be fucked by him. He wanted to feel Dean's cock inside of him. But right now he was way too drunk to get any of this across coherently.

In his desperation to make Dean understand, he could only think of one effective way. So he grabbed his brother's collar, yanked his head forward and kissed him full on the mouth. It was not really a kiss, just lips on lips. And Dean didn't move at all and Sam was way to drunk to manage anything decent. It only lasted a couple of seconds. Then Dean pulled away. Sam's head fell forward and he started crying again.

"I love you, De", he whispered.

There was silence for the longest time. Sam could hear Dean walking around the room, probably cleaning away Sam's mess. He could hear Dean entering the bathroom, could hear the shower running. Sam couldn't say how long he had just been sitting there. Could be hours, could be seconds.

A while later Dean appeared at his side and silently guided him over to his bed. He helped Sam to get settled and then covered him with a blanket. After some more time, Sam could feel the mattress dip down as Dean sat beside him.

"Sam, how long?" Dean's voice was quite and silent and, at first, Sam thought he had imagined it.

"Ever since I was 14."

After Sam's confession, there was silence again.

"Sleep now. I will take care of this mess."

Sam wasn't quite sure what Dean meant by that, but all fight had left him and he was so exhausted that he was asleep in a matter of seconds.

* * *

When Sam woke up he was greeted with a murderous headache. The sun was burning through the open windows and that wasn't helpful at all. He wasn't quite sure how much he had been drinking but obviously, it had been too much. With a groan, he got up and managed to make it to the loo before he vomited his guts out. This was indeed bad. But from what he had gathered from his hurried trip to the bathroom Dean wasn't home by now, his bed still untouched. At least, he had been spared from this embarrassment.

As he was in the bathroom anyway, Sam decided to take a shower. As the hot spray cleaned his body, bits and pieces from last night returned to him. He could remember getting more and more drunk, could remember Dean coming home and then… With a start, Sam remembered the kiss and the way Dean had talked to him before he fell asleep. But why was Dean's bed still untouched when he had been home? Dean never made his bed. Without turning the water of, Sam stumbled out of the shower. Without searching for a towel he ran into their bedroom and looked around. Dean's bed was untouched, his duffel bag and all his stuff were gone. A cold dread settled in Sam's chest as he slowly made his way over to the window. His whole body felt numb as he carefully drew the curtains aside. The parking spot in front of their room was empty, the Impala gone. On the window sill, right next to the door lay Dean's phone.

Sam's knees gave out under him and he collapsed to the floor. Dean's words from last night echoed through his head.

'I will take care of this mess.'

He hadn't meant the empty bottles or the state of the room. He had meant Sam's own personal mess. And he had taken care of it in the only way Dean Winchester knew how to take care of those things. He had left, for good. There was no coming back, no way of contacting him. Dean had left him and it was all Sam's fault.

Dean looked around the dingy bar he was currently sitting in. His hands fiddeled with the label of his beer bottle. He was in a bad mood. On this day, five years ago, he had left his little brother. It was necessary, sure, but that didn't mean it hurt any less. Sam had been the centre of his world for as long as he could remember. Apart from Stanford they had spent almost all their lives together.

And then Dean had found out that his brother had fallen in love with him. It was a shock, to say the least. But he had taken care of the situation. Well, he had left. Either way the problem was solved.

It still hurt. The Impala felt empty. Even after five years. There had been a few times when they had almost run into each other but Dean had so far avoided all contact. It was for the best after all.

His gaze settled on the man who had just entered the bar. It only took Dean a second to take in the tall frame and the long hair. Sam. He would recognize him anywhere.

Sam looked ok. No injuries as far as Dean could see. He had lost some weight but that was to be expected. Dean had told him that no grown man could live on rabbit food. As Dean watched Sam he thought about how easy it would be to just walk up there. To place a hand on Sam's shoulder and say "Hey man, long time no see". He could imagine the surprised look on Sam's face and how it would harden almost instantly. He would be stubborn for some time, mad even. They would argue and punches would probably be involved, outside in the parking lot. But Dean would apologize and then they would drink the whole night. Maybe Dean would even talk about this whoe messed up love thing with Sam. They would find a real solution. Some way to stay together. And then Dean would pull Sam into a hug like he had done sometimes. And he would whisper "I'm back for good Sammy" and Sam would know it was the truth.

A single tear fell on the table.

* * *

By the time Sam noticed that someone was staring at him and turned around the dark booth was empty. Only a half-drunk beer bottle remained on the old table.


	2. Strangers in the night

**So I did mistake while uploading the first chapter. The story was intended to be finished. But obviously the story thought differently.**

 **This is the second chapter to Falling apart.**

 **Enjoy reading and let me know what you think.**

* * *

It was one of those nights again. Sam couldn't sleep and he felt like the walls were closing in on him. He managed to get out of bed soundlessly, his hunters training still ingrained in his core. He made his way to the porch where the touch of cool night air created goosebumps on his skin.

He shouldn't feel like this but he couldn't help it. He had it all now, white picket fence included and he still wasn't happy. There was a rush under his skin, a burn, a desire. He felt restless sometimes, trapped like a tiger in a zoo. Always pacing, always searching, for what he didn't knew. But he did.

It had been seven years since his brother had walked out on him. Seven years since he woke up in a dingy motel room, completely humiliated and alone. Left by the only person in his life that still had mattered. Still did now. Always. After all this time. Sam liked to pretend that it meant nothing now. It was over, done with. The burden of another lifetime. But he only lied to himself. It still hurt the same. Still twisted his heart and stung. It was that kind of emotional pain that turned physical. It hurt like a bitch but he didn't like to admit that.

Sam had met Mitch about a year and a half ago. He was so unlike Dean that it was comforting and terrifying at the same time. He was a lawyer, nothing fancy. He was slightly smaller than Sam and lean. He was attractive but in an unimposing way. But it wasn't his looks or his character that had captured Sam. It were his eyes. A deep shade of green. Not the right shade but if he squinted just the right way he could always pretend. I wasn't fair, Sam knew that, but life had never been fair to him and this kind of affection was the only he was still able to give. His heart was lost and there was no denying the fact.

Sam had given up hunting over a year ago. He worked at the local gym and gave self-defense lesson. Sometimes he could be found at the shooting range. All the locals were impressed with his aim and after a year of guessing and asking and probing they just assumed that he had been in the army. Sam never denied it and the role fit him well enough. It was slow life. Full of happy moments and normalcy. On nights like this Sam hated it.

Suddenly a sound pulled Sam out of his nightly reverie. A shiver ran down his spine and he had to close his eyes against an onslaught of emotions. Somewhere in the neighborhood a Chevy Impala was making its rounds. The sound of the engine was unmistakable and Sam was sure he could identify this special car everywhere. He was so lost in the sound that it took him a moment to realize that the car was coming closer. And then it was there, directly in front of their porch. The engine died and the faint moonlight glistened off the polished hood of the Impala. The door opened and the driver got out.

Sam was sure he had fallen asleep on the porch at this point. Or maybe a Djinn had gotten hold of him. Because there was no explanation in this world or any other why his brother would be here, in the middle of the night.

"Dean?" It was a simple question and yet not. It carried confusion, anger, happiness and so much more. It was a question in itself but it was also a package full of why's and how's and what the fuck's.

"Hiya Sammy."

Dean sounded unsure, almost apologetic and Sam felt anger bubbling up in him. Why would he chose to show up here now. What was his aim. Sam was almost happy and Dean had to come and ruin him again? He was still so gorgeous.

"What are you doing here?"

The question came out harsher than Sam had meant it to and he saw Dean flinch and take a step back, like he had been slapped.

"I'm sorry Sam. I just wanted to see… I never saw you anymore, no one had heard from you in over a year. I was just worried that something had happened. Started to track you down a while ago. It wasn't that easy. You did good. Real good. But I found you and I see you are okay, better even."

It was clear now that Dean was nervous, he was rambling. The night stretched out silently as Dean collected his composure. Sam was kind of speechless.

"I never thought you would actually see me. Just wanted to see if you were alright and leave again. I'm sorry if I bothered you. It won't happen again. I'll leave now."

Sam couldn't believe it. He barged in here like an artefact from a long forgotten (not exactly) life and then decided to disappear again? Like it was ok for him to just stalk Sam, check in on him every now and then? He had left in the first place. He had no right to know what happened in Sam's life anymore.

"Dean."

The hunter had nearly reached his car but turned around now. Sam got up and closed the distance between them in a few long strides.

"If you leave now, don't bother looking back. You left and that gives you exactly zero fucking rights to know anything about me or my life ever again. If I ever get the slightest evidence that you have been around again, and believe me I will keep my eyes and ears open from now on, I'll be out of here faster than you can say brother. And you won't find me again. You cut me out of your life and you don't get to decide that I stay in yours any longer. If you drive away now, that's it Dean. We are nothing then."

Sam had kept his voice low but the threat was there, no doubt left. Dean's face had turned hard and unreadable. He opened his mouth once as if he wanted to say something, then thought better about it. Without another word he turned around, got into the car and left. The roar of the engine sounded like an explosion in the quiet of the night.

"Sam, who was that?"

Mitch stood in the doorframe, a dressing gown pulled tight around his lean frame.

Sam took another moment to look at the retreating form of the Impala.

"Nothing, just a stranger who was lost."


	3. Collision at full speed

**Here comes part three of Falling apart.**

 **The story is really growing now :D**

 **Enjoy and please leave a comment.**

 **Thank you xo**

* * *

Dean was wasted. Had been for the past two weeks or so. Ever since he had seen Sammy again, had actually talked to him. They were so close. He could have just pulled his little brother in for a hug. Instead he had left like the coward he was and there was no going back. Sam's words had been more than clear.

So he tries to drown his feelings in alcohol. And it's almost working. He hasn't been hunting since he started to look for Sammy. All the money he gains from hustling pool is spent on alcohol now. He sleeps in the back of the Impala. He never made it far from where Sam lives now. That night he just drove far enough to make sure Sam didn't think he was still hanging around for him. Then he hit the nearest bar and that was it. The great Dean Winchester. Reduced to nothing.

When he had left Sam about seven years ago he had never thought it would come to that. It had been necessary then. He was sure he could deal with the consequences. The truth was he couldn't. He missed Sam so fucking much. He had been the only constant in Dean's life. The only one who knew more about Dean than Dean himself. He had been his friend, his ally, his brother. They had been family. Better together than apart. And he had just gone and fucking ruined that as well.

Now Sam had a life. A real life like he always wanted to. There was a house, a steady job and even a boyfriend. From what Dean had gathered the man was a bore. Some kind of lawyer. He wasn't too bad on the eyes but what Sam saw in him he didn't understand. The guy was a total bore. Not that Dean cared. It was just a general observation. And he hadn't stalked the man. Just had watched him for a day or so. To make sure Sam was safe.

Whatever. Sam was happy and Dean couldn't take that from him. Not after he ruined his life. So he had left. Again. He kept telling himself that it was for the best, just like the last time. That he was just helping Sam, that he was taking care of things. But the truth was Dean was just a coward.

The door of the bar opened and loud voices pulled Dean out of his thoughts. A group of man had just entered and made their way to the bar. Dean watched them lazily, maybe he could hustle them later. One of them turned around and looked for a free booth while the others ordered their drinks. It was the Mitch-guy. Uncontrollable anger flared up in Dean and before he was able to think it over he was halfway through the bar. Later he would blame the alcohol.

* * *

It was eleven in the evening when Sam's phone rang. He was alone at home. Mitch was away with celebrating the birthday of a friend a few towns over.

"Carver", he answered the phone with his chosen surname.

"Hello, am I speaking to Mr. Sam Carver?", a women's voice enquired.

"Yes, that's me. How can I help you?"

"Mr. Carver, I'm calling from the Memorial Hospital. You are the emergency contact of Mr. Mitch Heemer, is that correct?"

"What… Mitch. Did… did something happen to him?"

Sam collapsed back on a chair. Panic filled him and he couldn't breathe anymore. What could have happened? Did his past finally catch up with him?

"Mr. Carver please stay calm. Mr. Heemer is fine. He was involved in a bar fight. He has a broken arm and some bruises. But you would have to pick him up."

"Sure. I'll come as fast as I can."

On the way to the hospital a thousand thoughts swirled through Sam's head. A bar fight? Mitch wasn't the type for something like that. What had made him so mad that he actually tried to fight someone? But nothing he thought about made any sense.

When Sam pulled up in front of the hospital half an hour later he had somehow calmed down a bit. He made his way to the information desk and the nurse there directed him to the right station. The emergency ward was busy this night. But most of the commotion came from a pair of officers. They were holding down a guy who was clearly very drunk. He looked like a homeless, unshaven and dirty, and he tried to get away from the police with all his might. Sam almost didn't recognize him.

"Dean? What are you doing here? What happened?"

The last question was directed at the officers. Dean had gone totally still and looked at Sam like a deer caught in the headlights. He reeked of alcohol and filth.

"And you are, Sir?", one of the officers asked Sam.

"Sorry, my name is Sam Carver. This man is my… he is a distant cousin. Always in trouble that one, what did he do now?"

"Can you confirm that Mr. Winchester?"

The officer looked over to Dean who just nodded silently and turned his face to the floor.

"Well Mr. Carver, your cousin was involved in a bar fight. He beat up a guy pretty bad. Broke his arm. If the man decides to press charges your cousin will most likely go to jail."

Sam wasn't listening anymore. He was furious.

"You beat up Mitch, you bastard? What is wrong with you, Dean? Wasn't I clear about you staying out of my fucking life? I can't even… you are such a gigantic asshole. This is it, Dean. I don't even recognize you anymore."

Everyone was staring at Sam. The officer had taken hold of him now, afraid that he might jump the other man. Dean was just impassive, facing the ground with his hands handcuffed behind his back. Sam wanted to punch him, hard.

"You know the victim, sir?"

"It's my boyfriend. I want to talk to him now."

* * *

They led Sam to Mitch. He looked terrible. His right eye was swollen and had adopted a dark purple colour. Sam could see various bruises peeking out under the clothes and the right arm was in a cast. He winced unconsciously.

"Hey, how are feeling?"

It was a stupid question and the frown that took over Mitch's face was proof enough for that.

"How do you think I feel? A total stranger jumped me in a bar, punching the living daylights out of me, all the while screaming some bullshit of how I didn't deserve you."

"Look, Mitch, I'm…", Sam started but Mitch interrupted him.

"No, you look Sam. I knew what was going on. I knew there was someone from the day I met you. But I thought if you chose me then that is enough. He wasn't there so I could live with it. But you could have at least warned me about your psychotic stalker ex-boyfriend. Don't you think that is a thing I would have deserved to know before my arm was broken?"

Mitch's voice had gotten louder and louder until he was screaming at Sam.

"I'm really sorry Mitch. I am. I never thought he would do something like that. I don't know what to say."

"Whatever Sam. I can't deal with that right now. Martin will pick me up in a few. I will stay there for a few nights. Sort this out and if you are still there when I come back we will see what we can do. But if you decide to leave then so be it."

There was a moment of silence. Sam had nothing to say, too many things were happening at once. He couldn't even look at Mitch.

"Sam, I care about you, I really do. I love you and I hope you know that. Please, just… make the right choice."

Mitch's voice was softer now and Sam looked up. There were tears in his eyes.

"I have to think. I'm sorry."

He left without another word.


	4. And the world stood still

**Hello everyone,**

 **thank you for reading that far :)**

 **Here come chapter 4 of Falling apart.**

 **Please leave feedback and enjoy reading xo**

* * *

"Mr. Winchester? A visitor for you."

Dean looked up confused. They must have made a mistake. No one would come for him.

"Today, if you would."

The officer was getting impatient and Dean quickly got up. It were the early hours of the morning but the police station they had brought him to was relatively busy. The officer had handcuffed Dean again and now lead him over to one of the interrogation rooms. Dean was at a loss as to what was going on.

"Mr. Carver wanted to speak to you alone. Don't try anything funny, I'm right outside watching."

The officer, his name was Maison, looked at Dean sharply for a second, then he opened the door to the interrogation room and ushered him inside. Sam was sitting in one of the chairs, his posture tense, arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Sit down."

It was an order and Dean obliged.

After that there was silence. Dean examined the surface of the table closely.

"Mitch won't press charges."

"Why not? He has every right to."

"You want to go to jail that badly?"

Now Dean looked up. Sam had raised a brow and watched him sceptically.

"Doesn't matter anyway, does it?"

"Why would you say that?"

"Oh come on Sam. I fucked up big time. You want nothing to do with me anymore. I beat up your boyfriend. What does it matter where I am? It's not like there is anything left for me."

"You left Dean. Now you want my pity?"

"No."

"Then what do you want?"

Sam's gaze had somehow softened and he was now leaning forward with his elbows on the table.

"I don't know anymore, Sammy."

Dean slumped back against the chair, head buried in his cuffed hands. Sam got up and left. No one came to get him. Dean started to get nervous, when Officer Maison entered the room and uncuffed him.

"Today's your lucky day. Mr. Heemer won't press charges and your cousin, or whatever, paid your bail. You're free to go."

Dean thought there were enough surprises for today but Sam waiting outside, in the Impala nonetheless, proved him wrong. They drove in silence, both lost in thought, until they reached Sam's house. Once inside, Sam showed him the way to the bathroom and handed him some towels.

"Take a shower. You reek like a garbage can. And don't bother putting those clothes back on. My shaver is the blue one. Use it. And for heavens sake don't do anything childish to Mitch's stuff."

There was nothing to do but nod.

The hot shower was cleansing and Dean felt like a human being again. He even looked like one without the beard. And he was really proud of himself that he contemplated dumping Mitch's toothbrush in the toilet for no more than 1 minute tops.

Outside of the bathroom he found a stack of clean clothes. They were all Sam's and a bit too long but Dean didn't really mind that at all. When he made his way down to the kitchen he saw Sam cooking a whole batch of pancakes. Officer Maison had been right, today was definitely his lucky day. Bets on how long it would last are now being taken.

"So you are the domestic type now?"

The sentence came out before Dean had time to think about it and he realised it was the wrong thing to say almost immediately. Sam's shoulders tensed and he turned around with a hard look on his face.

"Well let's say I was. Before you decided to beat my boyfriend to shit and made him leave me."

"I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't think."

There was no use arguing about it. Sam was right and it was only on his mercy that Dean was sitting at this table right now, about to eat pancakes, and not in a jail somewhere.

"It's done. Nothing we can do about it right now."

With that Sam served the pancakes and they ate in silence. It was the best meal Dean had had in days. Or the first. He wasn't very sure on the specifics of the last two weeks. And it was kind of surreal, them sitting at a table like they used to. Sharing a meal. It was almost like all the stuff in between could be forgotten. They could pick up right here and continue like they always had. Sam and Dean against the world. But of course it wasn't that easy. Dean suddenly felt like vomiting and he pushed the rest of his pancakes away. It earned him a raised eyebrow from his brother. He just shrugged it away.

There was more silence after that. It stretched like a canyon between them. Dean wasn't so sure if they would ever be able to cross the distance again. A distance that had been created by seven years of absence from the other's life, by too many unspoken words and by feelings that were far too complicated to put into words.

"So I wanted to thank you for getting me out of jail. You could have just let me rot there till the end of my days. Hell knows I deserve it. But you helped me anyway. So yeah… thank you, I guess, Sammy."

It felt like too little too late and all Dean could do was stare at his fidgeting hands. All he said just seemed to make things worse and he wondered how long it would take Sam to kick him back out.

"I don't get it, Dean. Why did you do it? What did Mitch ever do to you?"

"I was drunk, had been for the past two weeks. I saw him and… something just snapped. I just… I don't know why I did it."

"You don't even have a reason. You come here and ruin my life and all that without a reason. That's fucking great."

There was no malice in Sam's words. He just sounded tired and defeated. When Dean looked at him his eyes were full of sadness and Dean hated himself even more.

"Anyway. I'm tired. I spent the whole night searching your damn car. The guest bedroom is next to the bathroom, right side. Oh, and if you decide to run away again, don't bother leaving a note. I wouldn't read it anyway."

Dean's eyes were fixed to the doorway long after Sam's form had vanished.

* * *

He must have fallen asleep in front of the TV because the next time he opened his eyes it was nearly dark outside. After Sam had left, Dean had busied himself with cleaning the kitchen and exploring the house. He hadn't touched anything, just taken a good look at pictures and decorations. He wanted to know what he had destroyed. It was kind of twisted. After that he had thought about going to bed as well but he was sure that he would never find sleep. So he had started watching TV.

He figured that the noises from the kitchen had woken him up. Dean turned the TV of and made his way to where he found his brother preparing a batch of sandwiches. Sam looked much better. He actually hummed some song and there was a small smile on his lips. Dean thought about leaving him to it, not wanting to ruin his little brother's good mood, again. But in that moment Sam looked up and saw him.

"Hey, you hungry? I made some sandwiches. Just take some. Oh and thanks for cleaning up, by the way."

"It was the least I could do."

"Doesn't mean I expected you to do it."

Dean made his way over to where Sam was standing and started to fill a plate with sandwiches.

"I know now. Why I did it I mean."

It had come to him while he had studied the pictures of Sam and Mitch. They were different backgrounds, a beach, a forest, some garden or the porch. But they all had one thing in common. A happy couple, all tangled up in one another, always smiling or laughing. And Dean had been jealous. Because he wanted that as well with someone. Love. Happiness. A home. He was just contemplating the picture of Sam and Mitch, kissing, in front of their new bought home when he realised that he could have had all this. A lifetime ago he had had the chance at happiness, and love, and a home. But he had thrown it away.

Sam turned towards him, surprise written all over his features.

"Really? What was it then?"

Dean knew he could try to explain it. But there was no way he could put this feeling into words. Not when it didn't even make sense in his own head. But he had to make Sam understand and there was only one way. His hand found its way into Sam's soft hair and he pulled him closer until their lips were touching.

And for one glorious moment Dean was kissing Sam.


	5. And the world keeps turning

**Hey everyone,**

 **I'm so sorry that it took my so long to upload another chapter but I have been really busy. Sorry again. But here you go. The next chapter is up and running.**

 **Please leave a comment if you liked it.**

 **Thank you for reading xo**

* * *

Sam was frozen in place. A strong sense of deja-vu passed him. Dean was kissing him. In his kitchen. Seven years after he left Sam for doing the exact same thing. There was a part in Sam that still wanted to kiss him back, just give in to the feeling of warm lips on his. But there was also this other part. And it was furious.

With a hard shove to the chest Sam disconnected himself from his brother. He saw Dean stumble back and fall, heard the loud crack as Dean's head connected with the cupboard behind him. Sam couldn't find it in him to care.

"What the fuck, Dean? You think this is funny?"

Sam was screaming.

"I just needed you to…"

"Needed me to what? Huh Dean? You think this is all just one fucking joke? You think you can just show up here again like a fucking tornado and tear my whole life apart in the stretch of a day? And then, after everything I did for you today. After all this shit you have the audacity, the fucking audacity to come here and kiss me? What was it? Huh? Did you want to know if your little brother was still the same sick fuck you left seven years ago? Was that some kind of test? Because you know what, fuck you Dean. You are the biggest asshole brother that ever existed."

At some point Sam had hurled Dean up at his collar and was now slamming him repeatedly against the counter. Dean offered no resistance. Then Sam let go of him, almost as if he were burned, and Dean slumped back to the ground. His head was buried in his hands.

"I'm sorry, Sam. So sorry. I didn't mean to… I didn't know what to say and I… it was the only way really. I'm sorry. Please don't hate me Sammy."

Sam looked down at his older brother and all he could feel was pity. He didn't understand Dean anymore. He made no sense and all Sam wanted to do was punch him hard. After everything that Sam had gone through, all the feelings and the heartbreak. After he was left by the same person that now sat crying on his kitchen floor, he was done.

Just for a moment he had hoped that they could go back to being brothers, hunters. He had been prepared to leave with Dean this evening. He had actually been excited. And then Dean had gone and ruined it all again with one little gesture. He had torn the hole in Sam's heart wide open again, had made him feel all those things again. And he couldn't handle that. Not again.

"I'm leaving Dean. There are some things I have to get done and by the time I'm back you are better three states over. I don't ever want to see you face again."

He turned on his heel and left the house.

* * *

It was the middle of the night. Sam was sitting on a swing on an abandoned playground. He was afraid to go back. What if Dean hadn't left? What if he was waiting for him? What if he had done something stupid? He had been in a pretty bad state. Sam was sure he couldn't take it if Dean had offed himself. Then it was only a short step to blaming himself. Maybe he should have stayed. They could have talked this through. It had been clear that something had been going on with Dean. He was probably just confused, had meant nothing by it. And now Sam had gone and left him. That didn't make him any better than Dean.

But then again Sam had been furious. He probably only would have screamed at Dean more and maybe even punched him. He had accepted the fact that he could never be with Dean and the bastard just came and made him crave it all over again. And why? Why the hell would Dean do something like that? Out of curiosity? Out of pity? Or was it something else? Maybe, just maybe. But no. Sam wouldn't go down this road. Hope was a dreadful thing.

Sooner or later he had to go back. So why wait any longer. The walk to his and Mitch's house was too long and at the same time much too short. Every step that brought him closer was a mix between 'please let him be gone' and 'for heaven's sake let him still be there'. Sam closed his eyes as he turned around the last corner. For a few seconds he just stood there, eyes closed, heart beating way too fast. Then he opened his eyes. The Impala was gone.

The disappointment hit Sam so hard and unexpected that he couldn't breathe for a second. So that was it. He had hoped for Dean to still be there but he had made his case very clear earlier. Odds were that Dean really was three states over by now.

The house was silent and very much empty. No trace of Dean left. No note. No nothing. Sam allowed himself only a brief breakdown. He curled up on the kitchen floor, letting the emotions flow. The tears came with them freely. After ten minutes or so he got back up. There was stuff to do, things to pack. He wanted to leave as soon as possible. Here was no place left for him. The tears kept flowing steadily.

He was halfway through packing his stuff when he heard the front door open. Must be Mitch or one of his friends to pick up some clothes. Sam had hoped to avoid that confrontation but there was nothing to it now. He could take whatever they would dish up. He threw the last of his clothes in the suitcase, looked around the room once more and then he made his way downstairs.

The hallway was dark but Sam's eyes were still trained well from hunting. Someone was lurking in the shadows.

"Mitch, is that you?"

There was no answer but in that moment Sam had found the switch and turned on the light. Dean was facing him, a broad grin on his face.

"Surprise bitch."

"What the hell Dean? I thought you were gone."

"Well, you said I should and I drove around town for hours now, contemplating whether it was the smart thing to do or not. And just five minutes ago I thought 'Dean' I thought 'This stupid shit has gone on long enough, you are not leaving here without your brother'. So here I am. Get your ginormous ass in the car. I can't wait till I have seen the last of this goddamn town."

Sam could only stare at Dean with his mouth hanging open. Dean seemed like a completely different person than when he left him this afternoon. Just to make sure Sam threw a quick 'Christo' his way but all it did was earn him a raised brow.

"Really, Sam? I still have that anti-possession tattoo you know."

"Just making sure."

"Great you ready then?"

"Whatever jerk."

Sam never saw the enormous smile that took over Dean's face.


End file.
